


Private Performance

by KahtyaSofia



Series: Captain's Blog - S2 [17]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Bloodplay, Episode Tag, Episode: From Out Of The Rain, Knifeplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-22
Updated: 2009-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-03 13:18:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KahtyaSofia/pseuds/KahtyaSofia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack and Ianto each find a time when they need comfort and understanding from the other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Private Performance

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the lovely [info]faithharkness and the oh, so wonderful [info]katestamps. I hate this fic. This fic hates me. Not only did it take about two days longer than it should have to write, but then I spent three hours on the edits provided by my betas, only to have the file disappear completely. It's still MIA.

Jack decided to give Ianto time to get himself together. He was hiding his distress well; the rest of the team was probably unaware that this was more than just another case for him. Jack knew otherwise, though. Ianto was as reliable as the spinning of the Earth; he didn't leave any work undone, let alone the securing of alien tech in the secure archives. When he'd left the flask for Jack to secure, it had been a clear indication of how troubled Ianto was.

Jack wandered through the Hub, checking places Ianto might be, as he went, knowing he'd stumble across him sooner or later. He wasn't sure what he was going to say to Ianto when he found him; Jack wasn't even sure just what had upset him so greatly. He'd just find Ianto and see if his presence would encourage him to talk. Some part of Jack also hoped that dealing with Ianto's demons would keep his own dark memories of the Traveling Show at bay.

He wasn't the least bit surprised when the door to the conference room slid open to reveal Ianto cleaning the already pristine room. They had that in common, Jack thought to himself with a private smile, their need for action when feelings were overwhelming. He opted for the indirect approach, knowing the same technique worked when Ianto thought Jack needed to talk.

"So," Jack began as he strolled further into the room, hands buried in his trouser pockets, "how come I didn't get an invite to go to the Electro?"

Ianto's quick glance in Jack's direction, before he turned away again, confirmed Jack's suspicions that he'd shed tears over this case. Jack suddenly felt adrift in the face of Ianto's sadness. The cause wasn't obvious and that unsettled him.

"I wanted to enjoy the film without your running commentary and first-hand accounts." Ianto's tone was light as he attempted to keep things normal.

Jack decided to honor Ianto's attempt, for the time being, and continued to keep things light. "Oi! I add color with my first-hand accounts," he said, grinning.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that instead of just a commentary, you actually showed up in the film itself," Ianto turned to give Jack an exaggerated dark look. "Always finding a way to make it about you, aren't you Jack?"

Jack laughed at the humor that only slightly masked the truth. "I think some time next week you and I should take in a film at a cinema. A normal film," Jack emphasized, "one you don't have to worry I'll pop up in."

Ianto regarded him for a long moment, pain still evident in his eyes, "If you think you'd like to try that, we can go next week."

"Next Weevil hunting night, you're taking me to the cinema," Jack stated emphatically, all the while deciding how he wanted to circle back to try to uncover the reason for Ianto's upset.

Jack tilted his head to one side when Ianto drew breath as if to speak. No words were forthcoming.

"Ianto?" Jack asked, taking a step closer. He feared pushing Ianto would cause him to shut down completely; then again, Ianto seemed to want to say something.

"Does it ever seem pointless to you, Jack?" Ianto finally asked in a voice very weary of the world.

The question confused Jack, "How do you mean?"

Ianto shook his head even as he formed his reply, "Jonathan loses both of his parents; that poor young boy loses his entire family; Christina is still in Providence Park and yet she's really in her right mind; and now you say we might not have stopped the Night Travelers after all?"

Jack felt a moment's relief as Ianto began to reveal what was haunting him. He nearly leapt at conversation Ianto was offering, thinking it might prevent him from dwelling too much on his own dark past where the Night Travelers were concerned.

He approached Ianto slowly, considering his words carefully, "Pointless? No. Never. Frustrating? Absolutely. Discouraging? Without a doubt." Jack paused for emphasis, "We might not be able to save everyone every time, but we do manage to stem the tide."

"And if stemming the tide, as you say, isn't enough?" Ianto put his hands on his hips and faced Jack as if in challenge.

"What more do you think we should be able to do?" Jack was growing exasperated with Ianto's refusal to see how much of an impact Torchwood in general and Ianto in particular had on the city around them. Instead of providing a respite, Ianto's questions were dragging Jack back to his time with the Traveling Show and he was avidly trying to avoid thinking of that right now.

Ianto shook his head sadly, a bleak look in his eyes, "So many died. We saved so few."

Jack's heart went out to Ianto as he realized which ghosts he was battling. "We did save some of them," Jack said hotly, "we saved people who would not have been saved without our help"

Ianto's brow was furrowed and his eyes remained troubled. "We may have saved them, Jack but their lives are ruined."

"How do you know?" Jack asked quickly, knowing in his heart that Ianto wasn't only speaking of other people, "That's for them to determine. Their lives are what they make of them. As is yours."

Ianto gave a derisive snort, "And I've certainly made an impact with my life, haven't I?"

"Where is this self-pity coming from, Ianto?" Jack snapped in annoyance and not a little concern, "How many people are still alive because you stopped the Night Travelers from getting to them in the first place?"

Ianto's expression was still argumentative, "I just…" he started, then hesitated, "Jack, I feel like I failed. Like I could have done more to help and I just failed." His eyes told Jack he felt that he was always failing. When it counted; Lisa, Tosh in the country, Jack, Owen, those poor trapped souls, he always failed.

Jack certainly related to those feelings. He was familiar with the sense that he owed the ghosts of his past his very best, only to continually fall short. "If you feel you need to do more, reach out to Jonathan as a friend who knows what it is to lose a parent. No one should have to reshape their life alone."

"And just how is that newly orphaned little boy supposed to reshape his life?" Ianto's anger was palpable, "he is alone."

Jack drew a breath to respond but Ianto cut him off, "Maybe he'd be better off if I hadn't saved him after all."

Jack felt ice course through his veins at Ianto's words. He wasn't only speaking of the little boy. Jack knew Ianto was speaking of himself as well. He struggled to keep his expression neutral in spite of the turmoil of his emotions, "I get frustrated at how little an impact we sometimes seem to have. I get discouraged when I can't save everyone." Jack let out a shaky breath, "But no one…no one," he hissed, "is better off not being saved."

"Do the failures ever get easier, Jack?" Ianto implored.

"No," Jack answered honestly, "but continuing on in spite of them does."

Ianto's shoulders slumped and to Jack he looked beaten, defeated. He knew he needed to take drastic action immediately.

"Alright, get your coat," Jack ordered as headed for the conference room door, "we're outta here."

Ianto remained standing with his hands on his hips, "Why? Where are we going?"

"I don't know," Jack said briskly, communicating with his tone that he would brook no resistance, "but we're getting out of here."

"Jack, I'm not in the mood for your games," Ianto sighed.

"This is not a game," Jack snapped, "now get your coat. We're getting out of the hub; out from underground."

"Fine!" Ianto growled as he stormed past Jack. He was still in a temper but he followed Jack's orders and slipped into his Mac. Jack shrugged into his own greatcoat and steered Ianto toward the invisible lift.

When they reached the surface Ianto stepped off the curbstone, "So where are we going?"

"A walk around the bay; head back to your flat; if you get hungry we can stop along the way for something to eat." Jack strode out toward the water and Ianto fell into step beside him. The walked on for some time in silence.

Jack glanced out over the bay and felt the same sense of peace and belonging he always did, "Cardiff is really a beautiful city," he remarked, "it's come to feel like home and not just because I've been here for so long."

Ianto made no reply. He didn't even indicate he'd heard what Jack had said. Silence reigned again.

They were passing some shops when they passed a harried young mother with two toddlers in tow and a baby on her hip. Jack saw that the oldest of the children was carrying an action figure of an alien from a popular film about space aliens.

"Future employee of Torchwood," Jack joked.

"Someone should warn his mother," Ianto muttered under his breath and Jack couldn't quite suppress his smile.

They were nearing Ianto's flat when they overtook an elderly couple walking hand in hand. They split apart to pass on either side of the couple and Jack didn't miss the pained expression that flitted across Ianto's face.

"Well there're two people you kept the Night Travelers from getting their hands on," Jack said with feigned casualness.

Ianto shot him a surprised look but said nothing.

They entered Ianto's flat and Jack hung up his greatcoat. Ianto followed suit with his Mac then moved into the main living area. "Coffee?" he asked Jack in a very off-hand manner.

"Not tonight, I don't think either of us needs to be any more wired up," Jack replied, close on Ianto's heels.

"That's never stopped you before," Ianto snapped as he spun on Jack. He was hanging on to his anger stubbornly and Jack felt himself nearing the end of his patience.

"Then today is a day of firsts; I'm refusing coffee and you're turning your back on Torchwood. On me!"

"This has nothing to do with you, Jack!" Ianto spat angrily, stepping into Jack's space for once, instead of the other way around.

"It has everything to do with me," Jack went so far as to nudge Ianto's shoulder forcefully, upsetting his balance just slightly, "you and I were together in this every step of the way." Jack let Ianto feel the full force of his temper, refusing to hide his feelings. "I did everything I could to bring everyone out of this safely and you've done nothing but tell me I'm a failure."

"I've said nothing of the kind," Ianto was nearly shouting, "I've only said I feel as though I'm the one who failed." He actually reached up and gave Jack a small shove, just to move him back slightly.

"What you don't seem to get, Ianto," Jack said in his most low and dangerous voice, "is that you aren't in this alone. If you fail, we all fail. I fail." Jack paused to let that sink in.

"I'm the one who couldn't catch a fucking silver flask in time to keep the last breaths of a boy's family from escaping," Ianto snapped and Jack knew they were finally getting to the core of Ianto's anger, "and it was you who figured out how to stop the Night Travelers."

"We figured it out, Ianto," Jack fired back, "your knowledge and your observations led me to the solution. I needed you, your thoughts and your suggestions in order to get there."

"You'd have sorted it even without me…" Ianto started and Jack snapped. He'd had enough of Ianto's obstinacy.

Jack grabbed Ianto's upper arm and lifted, as one would a disobedient child, "Ianto! Stop…fucking…thinking." He shoved Ianto away from him but only enough to emphasize his words.

Ianto moved forward, arms raised as if to push Jack in response but before things could degenerate to a playground shoving match, Jack took hold of Ianto's face with both hands and kissed him.

The kiss was meant to punish. It was meant to shut Ianto up and to teach him a lesson. Ianto was in no mood to be punished and he pushed himself back against Jack with a great deal of angry strength but Jack was far too invested in his intent and refused to be moved.

He was a victim of his own anger when his lips began to hurt from the pressure he was exerting against Ianto's mouth. Jack could feel teeth and he thought he tasted blood. He was surprised and growled his reaction when he felt Ianto sink teeth into his lower lip.

"Fuck!" Jack shouted and pulled back in a rush. He grasped both of Ianto's arms and shoved him in the direction of the sofa. Ianto stumbled and went down just in front of it so he was forced to look up as Jack stalked toward him.

"No, fuck you, Jack!" Ianto shouted, face flushed in rage as he struggled to gain his feet again.

Jack was too fast for him and came to rest on his knees between Ianto's open legs. With one hand he roughly grabbed Ianto's jaw, with the other he took the back of his hair in a harsh grip. Jack dragged his tongue across Ianto's closed lips before he bit down, returning Ianto's treatment of his own lower lip.

He didn't take advantage of the surprised, pained gasp Ianto released; instead he lowered his head to Ianto's ear and bit hard on the exposed, sensitive lobe. Jack heard Ianto cry out and felt his hands scrabbling against his chest, but they weren't pushing, they weren't fighting. They were tearing at his clothes.

Jack worked his way down Ianto's neck. He bit hard, leaving marks behind. He paused to suck a particularly soft patch of skin before he bit it. Ianto was struggling beneath him but the struggles were to get their clothing out from between their bodies, not to force their bodies apart.

Jack reached for Ianto's suit jacket and shoved it down his shoulders and off of his arms. The sound of Ianto's tie being torn from around his collar was like a shot in the silent flat, the only other noise was their harsh breathing and their grunts of effort.

Ianto struggled with Jack's braces and he wasn't about to make it any easier after what they'd just gone through; what Ianto had just put them through. Jack tore Ianto's shirt from his trousers and grabbed a side of the hem in each fist and pulled his hands apart. He was rewarded with the satisfying sound of buttons scattering across the room and Ianto's angry, shocked gasp. Jack chose to silence the protests with his tongue.

Pulling back, Jack shoved Ianto's ruined shirt down over his shoulders. He used the garment to leverage Ianto over and face down onto the floor. Jack finished tearing the fabric from Ianto's arms and repositioned himself. Once again, he knelt between Ianto's spread legs and opened them further with insistent nudges of his own knees. Jack pressed Ianto's upper body into the carpet with both hands and held him in place. Then, he bent over the naked back of the man beneath him and bit into a thick bit of muscle.

Ianto cried out in pain and pleasure and renewed his struggles, although he still didn't put real effort into escaping Jack's hands. Instead he pressed himself upward into Jack's tongue. Jack used teeth on the fleshy spots of muscle and dragged his tongue along graceful protrusions of bone.

Jack held Ianto in place with one hand between his shoulders and reached beneath him to unfasten his belt and fly. With no finesse or consideration at all, he yanked Ianto's trousers and pants down over his hips and left them around his thighs. Jack smiled to himself. Let Ianto try to make a run for it now.

With both hands, Jack grasped Ianto's hips and muscled his arse up and into the air. When Ianto would have also lifted his shoulders, Jack shoved him back down to the carpet. "Keep your face down!" Jack snarled, "I only want to see your arse in the air."

Jack suppressed his surprise at Ianto's obedience. He thought he'd been in for more of a struggle. He'd been truly ready to force Ianto's submission. That it had come so readily was gratifying.

Turning his thoughts back to the task at hand, Jack sat back on his heels and grabbed both of Ianto's arse cheeks. He pulled them apart hard and far, fully exposing the puckered opening. He watched it clench and relax before him as Ianto writhed in rebellion and desire both. Jack dragged the thumb of one hand across the opening and was rewarded with Ianto's moan and the slight backward press of his body.

He wasn't about to give up his hard won dominance by going in search of lubricant so Jack used all that he had on hand. He took a small breath and spat on Ianto's slightly opened hole. Jack used the same thumb to spread his spittle across Ianto. As expected it didn't go far so he spat again. Still using his thumb to spread the improvised lube, Jack applied spittle to his area of interest a few more times.

Satisfied with the level of friction, Jack pressed his thumb inside of Ianto's body. The groan of discomfort and pleasure was music to his ears and he pulled back his thumb, only to press in again as he tried to elicit the same response.

Jack felt his spittle drying and the friction increase so he spat onto Ianto a few more times before he was satisfied. He rose up on his knees and with a trembling hand unfastened his trousers and drew out his own hard cock. He held Ianto steady with one hand and spat into his other, rubbing the fluid over the weeping tip of his erection.

He gave Ianto no warning before he pressed himself deep inside of the opening he'd hastily prepared. Jack had no doubt that Ianto's sounds reflected both passion and discomfort. He allowed himself a small smile as he realized he had Ianto just where he wanted him; completely focused on Jack and not dwelling on his ghosts.

Jack grasped both of Ianto's hips and proceeded to fuck him. They were both making loud, angry, somewhat pained sounds. Jack loved it. He could hear their bodies slapping together violently. He could feel Ianto's heat enveloping him only to release him reluctantly, clenching and grasping around his cock as it pulled out. Jack could smell their sweat and their desire and their sex. The scent made his balls clench and his cock twitch.

Ianto had settled into a steady rhythm against Jack. He seemed to be enjoying this impromptu punishment as much as Jack was. Still, it was time for Ianto to banish his demons.

"If I let you come," Jack gasped, "will you let go of these fucking thoughts of failure?"

"Uh huh. Yeah," came Ianto's reply, muffled as it was by his face pressed to the carpet.

"If you weren't here," Jack couldn't bring himself to say the word 'dead', "I wouldn't be able to fuck you like this."

Ianto's only reply was his rhythmic moans.

"If you weren't here I'd be lost," that last word was almost lost in the sound of Jack's hips meeting Ianto's arse cheeks, "now touch yourself."

Ianto complied, wrapping his fingers around his own erection and stroking. Jack could see his elbow moving as he found a pace that matched Jack's thrusts. The sight of Ianto pumping himself toward climax had Jack's balls rising up toward his own body.

"Fuck!" Jack shouted as came. That was the last coherent sound he made for several minutes, as the noises that followed formed neither words nor clear thoughts. It hurt. Jack came so hard it hurt. With a final pained shout, he released Ianto's hips and collapsed half on top of him.

Jack watched Ianto's arm still working himself furiously, "It's your turn," Jack whispered. "I want you to come while I'm still inside of you. I want to feel you."

That seemed to be the only encouragement Ianto needed. His entire body began to vibrate beneath Jack. He shook violently, crying out in much the same way Jack had, choked sobs muffled by the carpet beneath his face. Ianto's muscles around him forced Jack's now flaccid cock out of his body, but still he pressed backward as if to maximize the contact of their bodies.

Ianto's body gave out suddenly and Jack didn't have a reserve of strength or energy to keep himself, let alone both of them from crashing to the floor. He managed to roll clear of Ianto's body, but only just. Jack turned his head to see Ianto watching him from where he lay, still face down against the floor. He seemed to want to say something but neither of them had their breath back yet.

Finally, as the dark and the silence of the flat settled around them, Ianto spoke, "So," he was back to smirking now, "you wouldn't still happen to have that costume you wore in the Traveling Show, would you?"

Jack smiled, "I might…"

"Wear it for me sometime?"

"Seriously?"

"Um hmm."

"I'll see if I can find it. If I do, I'll let you know."

***

Jack watched the cog door roll back to reveal the Hub. Ianto stepped forward through the door, speaking to Jack over his shoulder as he walked.

"If we ever do that again we should make very sure the film is worth it."

"You didn't like it?" Jack asked, not overly enthused about the film they had seen either. He paused to power down the Hub, making all entrances manual and all alerts minimal.

"It's not that I didn't like it," Ianto explained as he hung up his Mac, "but for the money we spent to sit in a public cinema and listen to strangers talking to one another and answer their mobiles, I'd much prefer waiting for the DVD. Not only is it less costly, but I can utilize the pause button when it's time to visit the loo."

Jack laughed as he stepped into his office and hung up his own greatcoat, "So, why don't you climb down and get comfortable?" he said, trying for low and seductive.

"Alone?" Ianto asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No!" Jack replied in a tone intended to indicate Ianto should stop being silly, "I just have something to do right quick, and then I'll be with you."

Ianto turned and popped the hatch. He flashed Jack a small grin before climbing down. Jack began to shed his clothing as he reached for the freshly dry-cleaned costume he'd managed to hide from Ianto. It had been surprisingly easy to find in the archives. A previous Archivist, whose name was lost to Jack, had thought to store it in an airtight container. Getting it cleaned had marked the first time since he'd hired Ianto that he'd had to stand on queue for the drycleaner. It had been an adventure he didn't feel the need to repeat.

Jack paused to run his hands down the front of his uniform style costume. Donning these clothes had thrown him backward in time. Old feelings of self-hatred and impotency were surfacing and he angrily forced them back down into submission. Jack grabbed up his bag of props and paused just before going down through the hatch. Ianto had asked for him to do this; he'd wanted Jack to wear the costume, to put on his old display in private. Just for Ianto.

As Jack jumped down he saw that Ianto had stripped down to his shirt and trousers. He lay back against the pillows and was removing his watch and cufflinks when Jack reached the floor.

Jack watched Ianto glance up, then back down before his mouth fell open as he did a double take. That was a good reaction. Jack's heart beat a rapid tattoo at Ianto's pleased expression. This room and this man would keep Jack's mind out of the shadows tonight.

"Jack! You found it!" Ianto exclaimed with a brief smile, his eyes roaming over Jack's frame.

"And as promised, if I could find it, I'd wear it for you." Jack glanced down at himself and took in the once familiar, though now alien, sight of himself dressed in his Traveling Show costume. He struck several poses he hoped were hero-like.

Ianto sat up on the bed and gave a quick laugh, "You look great!"

"So," Jack asked, "are you ready for the whole show?"

"There's a show?" Ianto furrowed his brow.

"The Man Who Can't Die. Remember?"

"Well let's have the entire show, then!" Ianto exclaimed as he sat back on the bed, making a show of getting comfortable but giving Jack his undivided attention.

Jack jumped into his role and opened his 'bag of tricks', "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, those of you with a strong constitution and a love of the unexplainable, step right up and witness a miracle. That's right, the miracle of the 'Man Who Cannot Die'!"

"Oooohhhh!" Ianto jokingly enthused.

"See him wounded and watch him heal before your very eyes!" Jack continued as he drew a straight razor across his palm.

How many times before had he done this to himself? How many times had things like this been done to him? How many things had Jack done throughout his life to deserve so much more than this small pain? How much more pain did he owe until his debt was paid?

He saw Ianto flinch but say nothing. Unlike Jack's old audience, he knew the cut was not a trick. Ianto understood Jack's blood and pain were real.

Jack unbuttoned a cuff and continued his barker act, "You can slice him, you can crush him, you can shoot him and still he doesn't die!" He drew the blade along the length of his forearm. Jack felt an old anger, an ancient resentment swell in his chest. He'd thought these feelings were behind him.

Jack held up the palm he had cut and wiped away the blood to display undamaged flesh. Moments later he wiped the blood from his forearm to display the closed wound and flawless skin. Jack resisted the urge to cut himself again, long-silent words of disdain suddenly echoing in his head, threatening to again convince him that this was all he was good for.

"Okay, that's a cute trick, Jack," Ianto said, "but how does that show you can't die?"

"Patience, young man," Jack snapped in mock anger, his self loathing roiling just beneath the surface, "all will be revealed in time."

Ianto rolled his eyes but remained silent.

Jack opened the front of his costume's blouse and rolled his other sleeve up above his elbow. He dragged the razor around the circumference of his arm, then sliced along the width of his chest. There had been a time he had endured this because he'd had to. There had been times he had needed to intervene against those that had sent him out, sent him on this mission with a casual wave of a hand and a sniff of disgust. Not long ago he'd been forced to endure, chained as he was between two walls. Now, though, he endured it because Ianto had asked it of him. And because Jack himself had changed; he liked this now. He liked this pain.

"Jesus, Jack," Ianto breathed, his brows knit in distress, "how often did you do this?"

"Every night we were in a town," Jack said, trying to sound jovial as he took up both his own side arm and the old gun from inside his bag.

"How did you stand it?"

"Not much choice, really." His sense of self-preservation had made him want to walk but his conscience, the one the Doctor had dug out of the rubble, wouldn't allow it.

"Did you have to cut yourself for real…?" Ianto trailed off as his face took on a slightly horrified expression, "You didn't really kill yourself each night, did you?"

"No, just a little sleight of hand took care of that," he reassured Ianto, trying to push aside his own dark thoughts.

Continuing with his performance, Jack handed Ianto his Webley to examine. Ianto checked that it was indeed loaded and handed it back. Jack turned away for a few moments then turned back and Ianto could see he no longer held the Webley.

"Of course back then I used two identical guns, the second loaded with blanks," Jack explained his trick.

"What happened if someone tried to use their own gun on you?" Ianto was eyeing Jack critically.

"Oh that happened a lot!" Jack exclaimed with genuine humor, "Angry husbands, boyfriends…the occasional girlfriend or wife…"

"Jack…" Ianto admonished.

"The beauty is that the few who actually got a shot off couldn't really kill me. Neat trick when you think about it." Jack realized his attempt at humor had fallen flat. Ianto was just too good at figuring things out. Too good at figuring Jack out.

They both fell silent, lost to their own thoughts for long moments. Jack dwelt on the insensitive way he had been pushed into a difficult undercover assignment; at the same time he wondered at the nature of Ianto's thoughts.

"So I'd use the gun loaded with blanks to shoot myself in the head just like you saw in the film," Jack said as he shook himself from his reverie, "but I'll save us both the sound of the discharge in this enclosed space."

"Thank heavens for small favors," Jack heard Ianto murmur.

Picking up the straight razor again, Jack sat down beside Ianto on the bed and handed it over to him, "Sometimes if the crowd was particularly skeptical I'd let one of them cut me." Those were the days he had felt he needed an exceptional punishment, a tangible reflection of his inadequacies. Those were the days when he felt he was failing someone, even if it was only himself.

Ianto held Jack's gaze for an interminable time before dropping his eyes to Jack's bare forearm. There were still streaks of dried blood from Jack's self-inflicted wounds. Ianto cradled Jack's arm against his body and drew the razor along the top skin.

Jack sucked his breath in through his teeth, reveling in the delightful pain/pleasure. How had Ianto known yet again what he'd needed? He felt his cock stir and begin to harden. "Yeah, like that," Jack sighed, then continued conversationally, "only you're a bit gentler than any of the crowds were."

"I can't imagine why," Ianto replied dryly.

Jack watched as Ianto stroked his thumb along the wound he had opened and smeared the blood away from the closing wound. They both watched Ianto's hand slide the blade back along Jack's arm and part the skin. Blood welled up to greet them both and Jack felt his half-hard cock twitch.

"You didn't enjoy this back then, did you?" Ianto asked in a low voice. "Not like you do now," he continued, meeting Jack's eyes.

"No," Jack confirmed, feeling the darkness curl around him even closer, though it didn't lessen his arousal any.

"Why did you let them do this to you? And I don't mean the crowd."

Jack knew Ianto would eventually figure out it was Torchwood that had sent him undercover. And because he had, Jack wasn't required to say it out loud. The bitter words didn't have to scald his tongue. "It needed to be done and no contracted personnel had the necessary skills or could be spared."

Ianto blocked Jack's view of his own arm and began to intricately carve along the tender flesh on the underside of his forearm. The pain was acute and shot up the length of Jack's arm, dragging a pleased sigh from his lungs. He revered the pain; here was his penance. His erection was full and pressed against his fly demandingly. Jack closed his eyes and tipped his head back, breathing deeply, stifling the groan of pleasure that threatened to escape his clenched throat.

When Ianto finished he released Jack's arm. Jack looked down through half-closed eyes and the bloody carving stopped his heart in his chest. Cold fingers of dread walked down his spine as a memory flashed across the white screen of his memory. Another place; another time; words carved into his skin. Hateful, demeaning words.

Jack stared at the beautiful calligraphic letters oozing blood from his skin and found he couldn't breathe. Ianto. Jack felt sick at the sight. He felt branded. His mind knew Ianto had marked him in love but his gut twisting memories only let him see the handiwork of a demented Time Lord branding his toys.

"Don't do that, Ianto!" Jack hissed and pulled his arm against his body, oblivious to the blood seeping into his costume.

"Jack, what's wrong?" Ianto sat back tensely, "I thought that's what you wanted?" he said plaintively.

"The cutting is good but carving your name…" Jack found he couldn't finish. He willed Ianto to understand without words. Ianto was good at that. Jack fervently hoped his skills wouldn't fail them now.

Ianto reached for the opening to Jack's blouse and dragged the razor across his chest; "It's just you and me here. You're home and it's just us." Jack hissed and his eyes fluttered shut in ecstasy and profound relief. "You couldn't have thought you'd need to mitigate Torchwood against the Night Travelers?"

Jack groaned when Ianto dragged the razor across his chest again, "I couldn't know for sure until I found them." He was so gratified that Ianto had moved them back to their original topic flawlessly. His cock was fully hard once again and was throbbing incessantly, begging for Ianto's attention.

"But you didn't find them so you endured all this pain for nothing."

"I inflicted my share of pain on others."

"Jack."

"Hmm?"

"Shut the fuck up."

Jack's eyes shot open at Ianto's harsh words, softly spoken. Ianto's words held both displeasure at Jack's self-blame and the hard edge of one man taking control of another. Jack's mouth went dry with desire and his heart raced with his utter neediness.

Ianto stood up and looked down at Jack, "Strip off your shirt."

Jack didn't even hesitate to comply. He really wanted to strip off his trousers too in order to free the raging hard-on he was sporting. But he knew Ianto would make it worthwhile if he waited for the order.

"Face down," Ianto ordered.

Jack immediately moved to lay face down on the bed. Ianto removed Jack's boots and the movements pressed Jack's cock into the mattress, causing him to rub himself against the inside of his pants. He felt Ianto crawl up his body and sit astride his hips. Jack's shoulders were pressed to the mattress by Ianto's hand on his back. The first slice of the razor on his back was exquisite. Jack pressed his shoulders upward; aching to make Ianto's cuts deeper. He growled, low and feral, deep in his throat.

"My mark on you is different from any other's mark," he heard Ianto hiss from above him.

"I know."

"I mark you because you want me to, not because I need to."

"I know."

"Since I do this for you, you're going to let me hear how much you enjoy it."

"Yesssss," Jack heard himself draw out his own lust-filled response.

Jack could feel that Ianto wasn't just cutting lines into his back, but he was carving an intricate design. The slices stung and burned. Ianto's hand pressed between his shoulder blades reminded him to be still, to not writhe. Jack did moan, though. He moaned loudly and didn't bother to stifle his groans. Ianto wanted to hear Jack enjoy the cutting so he let himself go, fisting his hands into the coverlet as the ecstasy rocketed through him.

"I am carving a Welsh dragon into your skin, Jack," Ianto breathed.

Jack groaned his pleasure as the image of the proud beast taking shape on his skin formed clearly in his mind's eye.

"I chose the dragon because it's me and it's home."

Jack gasped in pleasure at a particularly deep cut, and it kept him from saying anything in reply.

"The red of your blood is gorgeous against your skin," Ianto spoke over Jack's harsh breathing.

"Then keep carving," Jack knew his knuckles were white where they gripped the bed covers.

"Shut the fuck up, Jack."

"Sorry," and he really was. He didn't want anything to upset Ianto to the extent he stopped slicing into the tender skin of his back and shoulders.

Ianto's weight was suddenly gone from Jack's hips and he felt bereft and insecure. He whimpered softly at the loss. Ianto's hands suddenly reached beneath him to unfasten his belt and fly. The touch was inexplicably reassuring. Jack could feel the heat of Ianto's bare skin near his own. Somehow Ianto had shed his shirt and Jack's fingers itched to run over his naked chest.

Ianto's firm hands pulled Jack to standing and steadied him, keeping him faced away. Jack's hard cock bounced freely, angry and red and aching for Ianto's attention. Jack shivered when Ianto's breath caressed his ear, "I'm going to fuck you upright so I can watch your blood run down from the marks I've put on you.

"Whatever you want," Jack breathed and meant it.

The faint sounds of slick met Jack's ears and his knees began to shake from the anticipation of Ianto fucking him. A firm hand moved one of Jack's legs to prop a foot on the mattress. This gave Ianto all the access he needed. Jack felt the blunt head of Ianto's cock breach him abruptly, but gently, and he reached back to grasp Ianto's thrusting hips.

"You feel so good, Jack," he heard Ianto moan behind him, "and the sight of your blood running down your back from my carving is so hot."

"I can feel it. My blood running down my back. Your cuts are still burning."

Ianto wrapped an arm around Jack's chest and up over one shoulder in order to control their rhythm. With his other hand Ianto caressed Jack's back. The carving burned from the salt of Ianto's fingers. Jack pressed himself backward and forced Ianto's cock deeper with each thrust.

He felt Ianto's palm press to his lower back and slide upward. Jack felt his blood smearing under the progress of Ianto's hand. Ianto's fingers reached back up to the carving itself; sharp pricking sensations told him Ianto was reopening the healing wounds, refreshing the flow of Jack's blood down his own back.

Ianto wrapped his arms around Jack and up over his shoulders. He thrust hard and deep into Jack's willing body. Jack's grunt was loud in his own ears as he felt himself filled up completely with Ianto's cock. His blood drying between their bodies made Ianto's chest tacky against his back. They were beginning to stick together, sealed to one another by Jack's own blood.

"Fuck, Jack, you feel good," he heard Ianto whisper. Jack felt one of Ianto's hands reach between this thighs and begin to stroke him firmly. The feel of Ianto's cock inside of him, the burn of the cuts on his back and Ianto's hand stroking his erection had him close.

Ianto thrust himself in and out of Jack's body, and stroked Jack's cock in time with his hips. He heard himself grunting over the slap of their slick skin as their bodies connected again and again. Their sweat mingled with Jack's blood and the salt renewed the burning in his wounds. Ianto's harsh breathing was just audible, as was his chanting of unintelligible words.

They came together. Ianto pulsed into Jack's body, panting and groaning and pressing himself deep and hard. Jack felt his own release over Ianto's talented fist, his cries a combination of pain and relief. The pain of his climax was altogether different from that of the burning wounds in his back. Jack's cries were loud and guttural and he struggled to keep himself upright against Ianto as every muscle clenched and his knees threatened to give. Ianto held him as he came, his chest pressed to Jack's back, holding and comforting. Jack felt the darkness recede. The pain and the anger and desolation fled back behind the doors of his mind from which they had so insidiously crept.

Jack felt himself gently lowered to the mattress and cleaned by Ianto's gentle, efficient hands. Ianto gently cleaned away all traces of Jack's climax from them both. A warm cloth wiped away the last of Jack's blood, the final indication that Ianto had possessively carved him up.

"Your bleeding has already stopped. You're healing. My marks are already fading."

Jack felt Ianto remove the last of his own clothing and crawl into bed beside him, pressing against his still-sore back.

"You'll have to place your mark on me again soon, then."

(OK to convert and Kindle as long as header remains intact. Please comment if you do.)


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